


All Aboard the Accidental Mom Train (And Other Assorted Cultural Misunderstandings)

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Stabdad (Integrated Worlds) [11]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Grubs (Homestuck), I LOVE GRUBS, M/M, Panic Attacks, cultural misunderstanding, integrated worlds, or something to that effect, stabdad branch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 15:18:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19176001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Dave wanders away from where Karkat leaves him at the market, makes a friend, and gets a lil' more familiar with some of Alternia's unique fauna.





	All Aboard the Accidental Mom Train (And Other Assorted Cultural Misunderstandings)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to raevyn for the title!
> 
> [art here,](https://knight-of-heart-and-art.tumblr.com/post/185516964691/tigerbear-mom-and-her-grub-done-with-my-mouse) done by yours truly
> 
> now includes art by [sachariinne](https://sachariinne.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!

For _some_ fucking reason, crowds on this planet are a hell of a lot less of a mindfuck than crowds on Earth. Maybe some of that's because you're here with Karkat, who gave you his fuckin' word that he's not gonna let you out of his sight for more than ten minutes at a time. Part of it's probably got to do with the fact that this isn't, like, any kind of enclosed space; in an open-air market you've got the option to wander out of the main walkway, slip between a couple stalls and seriously consider climbing up one of the weirdass trees that separate the market area from people's houses and whatever.

Your consideration is currently in the " _very_ serious" stage. Like, literally the only thing that's stopping you is that you know that a ridiculously high percentage of Alternian plants have defense mechanisms that can kill you. On the other hand, though, these trees are growing in a circle, somebody planted them as a barrier; would they _really_ use shit that's gonna send anybody who fucks with them to the hospital? Then again, trolls are kinda weird sometimes, maybe—

Something squeaks, from the vicinity of your ankles. The very fucking close vicinity of your ankles, because before you can look down and determine if this is something else that's gonna try and bite the shit out of you, whatever it is bites the shit out of you.

"Fuck—" Sword sword sword you need your _sword_ out of its sheath before—wait, shit. That's not something that's gonna kill you. Nope, that's a...weird troll baby. A grub. "Oh."

You should probably put your sword back where it goes before you squat down to check the lil' guy out. Unfortunately, by the time that you realize that, you're already on the grass and the grub's crawling up into your lap, making little inquisitive chirping sounds. Alright, sword goes on the ground then. It'll be _fine_ , and you need both hands available to cradle the squishy blue body, brush strands of sleek black hair away from bright eyes and tiny curved horns. Fuck, you didn't realize baby troll's faces were this cute.

"Hey, lil' dude. Where's your mom? Or your dad. Your parent." More chirps, and a tiny purring growl that gets muffled by the grub's decision to chomp on your sleeve. "C'mon, that can't taste all that good. Turn loose."

They do not turn loose, not even when you start tugging. If anything, the lil' guy tugs back, bright eyes sparkling at the opportunity for a game. Which this isn't; they're cute and all, but you kind of don't want to have a ripped shirt this far from home. Prodding at their mouth _does_ get them to let go, though. Unfortunately that's just because your fingers look more like a snack than red fabric does.

"Hey!" Like a kitten, this baby has sharp teeth. Unlike a kitten, they don't really bite down as hard as they can—the grub mouths your hand, twisting around to grab at your arm with all three sets of insectile legs. Now, _that_ part hurts a bit; apparently grubs don't really have feet, just...sharp lil' graspers that're totally capable of piercing a layer of cloth to poke at your skin. " _Gentle_ , okay? I dunno about y'all, but humans are kinda easy to poke a hole in, y'know?"

Either the grub understands you, or they get the message from your tone, because they blink up at you and spit out your hand long enough to produce an apologetic trill before opening their mouth for another soft chomp. And yes, they do ease up with the deathgrip on your arm, rolling to let you get a good look at their belly. Which is, you find when you reach in with the hand that's not being used as a chew toy, a hell of a lot softer than the almost prickly skin of their back, almost the same texture as suede or some shit.

They seem to like having their belly rubbed—their eyes go half-closed, and a higher-pitched version of the purr you're used to from Karkat starts up.

"God, you're so fuckin' cute. Did you know that?"

_Chirp._

"Yeah, that was a stupid question—of _course_ you know you're cute. Ease up on my wrist, though; I know I'm tasty but that kinda hurts."

_Squeak?_

"Humans're easier to break than trolls. Like, you probably don't hurt your parents when you do that to them, don't worry."

_Squeak! Chirp. Chirp, chirp, chirp chirp._

"Oh, good point. Where the fuck _are_ your parents?" That was the whole reason that you went to pick this lil' guy up: because babies of any species probably shouldn't be left unattended in a public place. Like, trolls are pretty good with just kind of trading off their kids all the time—you're still working on figuring out who the fuck owns which kids in Karkat's extended family slash friends slash whatever the correct name for it is—but they're not gonna just let grubs wander off by themselves, right? There's gotta be—

The grub in your lap squeals, distracting you from your chain of reasoning before you can figure out if there's any links missing. You look down at them, realize they're yelling at something that isn't you, follow their gaze to see what that something might be—and immediately clutch them up to your chest with one arm, grabbing for your sword with the other as you roll back to your feet.

You don't have a name for the animal that's padding past the barrier of trees and towards you. It's got to be close to five times your size, at least five feet at the white-furred shoulder, and its gait reminds you of videos of grizzly bears headed to a river to pick up a snack of salmon. (Fuck, that's a bad analogy, because the only snack right here is _you._ Well, and the grub, but this fucker's gotta go through you to get the lil' guy.) The head isn't ursine, though, but feline, with long white whiskers and pale grey stripes that make a tiger's mask over the face, keep going down the beast's neck and body and _fuck_ you need to unfreeze your dumb self before it fucking _eats_ you!

"Back the _fuck_ off." Yeah, because talking to it is gonna be super fucking effective. You tighten your grip on the grub a lil' bit more (earning yourself a surprised growl and a sharp nip that might actually draw blood) and raise your sword up to defend. Which is fucking _useless_ here and you know it; if that thing takes a swipe at you, any attempt to parry will just take your whole fucking arm off. "Go—get the hell out of here, go find something else to snack on, you're not getting this guy—"

The...tigerbear? Yeah, the tigerbear takes one more step towards you, out of the halfassed screen of trees, and sits down on its haunches, mouth opening to show a shitton of way-too-big teeth. Oh, _shit._ Shit. Shit shit shit—

But it just. Meows. Like, it's a very big meow, but that's obviously what it is. Between that incongruous sound and the fact that its tongue is turquoise instead of any reasonable color, you're kind of thrown for a loop. Not enough to lower your sword, you're not _that_ stupid, but enough that when the damn thing shifts its weight from one side to the other, you don't recognise the movement for what it obviously is: the prelude to a pounce.

Kind of a pounce. Like, the tigerbear doesn't get airborne at any point, but it still launches itself at you too fast for you to do anything other than realize that you _can't_ do anything but drop your sword and wrap both arms around the grub. Like that's gonna stop it from getting eaten after this fucker's done with you.

You probably also make some kind of embarrassingly terrified and inappropriately loud noise. Like screaming. You probably do that, as the tigerbear slams into you and pins you down. Look, you're gonna die, and you're gonna die in an _incredibly_ stupid way, you might as well give up on any shred of dignity that you're still hanging onto.

You can't _breathe_ through the weight on your chest. Teeth sink into your arm.

They're very small teeth, though. The grub's the only one biting you, the tigerbear's just holding you down with its weight on your legs and one paw planted firmly on your chest, lower than where the grub's nestled up against your neck, and yeah you could _maybe_ fight back here but your brain isn't gonna cooperate with that. This shit's basically a fear overload; all you can do is sink your teeth into your lip so you don't fucking sob and close your eyes, stubbornly hanging onto the squeaking grub even as it nips again and again at your hands. At this point you can barely feel those sharp little teeth; that's how terrified you are. So fuckin' scared it doesn't even feel like fear, doesn't feel like anything, god but you don't want to feel anything, you don't want to die but if you're gonna then you don't want to feel _shit_ —

" _Hey_!" Karkat's at full volume, which is saying something. He follows up that one word with a wordless snarl, something unfamiliar and wholly irritated (at you? maybe, but probably not) and the animal holding you down meows again. "Dave? Stars and space—Dave, what the fuck are you doing?"

For the first second you can't answer him because there's a fucking hugeass wild animal holding you down. Then the weight abruptly eases, and the reason you can't answer changes. Like, there still is a reason and he's still not getting an answer, but then again knowing Karkat, he'll get some kind of answer out of the fact that you sob in a breath, start coughing, and roll over in the grass to curl yourself around the still-squeaking grub.

"Holy fucking shit. Dave." Nope, all you're getting from him is confusion. After a moment, though, you feel his hands on your shoulders, pulling you half-up and shifting in to let you lean on him when you nearly go down again. That—that's good. Karkat holding you is good. If he's calm enough to try and calm you down, then there's nothing to be losing your shit over, right? Right?

Maybe so, but you can barely breathe right now, let alone focus enough to apply logic to this shit. Not yet. Take a couple more minutes, lean on Karkat and let him make small fake-angry shushing sounds, let the little blue grub keep chewing on your hand. Lil' guy's getting you all fuckin' slimy at this point, drooling enough to make a damp spot on your sleeve...

Wait, no. That'd be blood. Not a lot of blood, but still blood from where they bit you. Karkat notices it a bare second after you do, hissing under his breath and twisting around to glare at something over his shoulder. "Did you fucking _bite_ him?"

"Karkat—" Wait. Who the fuck is he talking to.

You look, and immediately regret looking. It's the fucking white tigerbear, seated on its haunches behind you, fuckin' _looming_ over you when you glance over your shoulder. The grub chirrups and squirms out of your grip when you stumble to your feet; you try to grab it again and Karkat grabs you before you can, grunting as you try to fight him.

"Dave, fucking _stop_ —"

"No, fuck no, it's gonna—I gotta—lemme go, fuck, let me _go_ —"

Fuck. The sound of your own voice startles you; you sound hoarse and desparate, completely opposite Karkat's confused concern. That concern's aimed in the wrong direction—at _you,_ not at the fucking _baby_ that's about to walk up to a god damn monster and get chomped—

Except.

What actually happens is that the grub scurries up to the tigerbear, stops between the big paws and looks up and squeaks, and the tigerbear dips its head down and starts licking their hair into spikes. Doesn't bite, doesn't growl, doesn't show teeth at all, just starts grooming the troll grub like they belong to it.

You try to process this, fail miserably, and give up on everything, including being upright. Karkat yelps in surprise as you sag against him, but he doesn't let you go straight down, thankfully.

"Come here, you fucking jackass..." Karkat lets the rest of that sentence trail off into unintelligble Alternian muttering, struggling with your uncooperative ass for a second before huffing and sitting back down on the grass with you. He doesn't pull back when you scoot closer and reach for him; hell, he's got his arms around you before you can sort out how you want to hold him, already shushing you in a way that doesn't have anything to do with wanting you quiet. "Let me see your fucking arm."

"Nuh-uh." That's about all you feel like saying right now.

"Dave, come on. What did you do, start poking the grub until their lusus got pissed enough to smack you?" He huffs, nuzzling at your shoulder. "You still have an arm, so it _obviously_ didn't bite you..."

"The. The grub bit me. 'cause I squeezed them, I think." You can't take your eyes off the tigerbear, which is now gently nosing at the grub to try to get them to roll over. "That, uh... _that's_ a lusus?"

"Yes? What the fuck did you think it was?"

"Something that wanted a snack. Lil' bite-sized troll grub, y'know? Basically the shrimp sushi of giant fuckoff alien animal world." You're vaguely aware that you're making less sense than usual. That does not mean you can shut up. "Like, look at it, it's got a big enough mouth, that lil' guy would totally go down in one bite..."

Karkat groans. "Fuck."

"What? Like, I get that I fucked up, but you usually just yell when I do that, not get actually upset—"

"Look at it, Dave."

You look. The tigerbear looks back, cocking its head as it examines you. Then it lowers its head again, nudging at the grub.

They only need a little pushing before they squeal and scurry back across the grass to you, back up into your lap to nuzzle at the stain on your shirt where they bit you. As you reach down to smooth their hair down, reassure them you're not mad, Karkat groans again and lets go of you, flopping back to lie flat on the grass and scowl up at the sky.

The tigerbear meows and rises to its feet, padding past you and stopping with its face above Karkat's. (You manage not to flinch. Good fucking job, Dave.)

He makes a face at it. "I will shave your fucking coat and turn it into a tapestry for— _fuck_ , no, _bad_ —"

From the amount of noise he's making you'd assume he's being eaten, but nope, the tigerbear's just licking his face. You suspect the chirring sound the grub's making is some kind of laughter. "Dude, I think she likes you."

He splutters, finally getting the lusus to back off enough that he can sit up and give you a glare that you'd take to be absolutely poisonous if you didn't know him so well. "She likes _you_. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Uh...I'm not gonna get eaten?"

"That too." Karkat nods at the grub nestled in your lap. " _That's_ half yours now."

"Very funny." But he's not grinning, and you suspect that this is not, in fact, a joke. "Wait. Shit. Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"...uh-oh." Shit shit _shit._ You cannot half-own a grub. No. You can barely take care of yourself, Jack's gonna lose his shit if you come home with a baby troll (and presumably a fuckoff huge tigerbear.) This is not in any way good.

But then again, the grub's chirping happily at you, nibbling your fingers, and can you _really_ be upset about that?

God damn it you are having a _crisis._ And now Karkat's laughing at you, the fucker.

"Stop panicking," he says.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"By fucking listening to me, maybe?"

"I _am_ listening to you. That's why I'm panicking."

"Good point. I'll try again." He huffs, batting the tigerbear away when it tries to start grooming his messy hair. "I do not fucking need that, you obstinant pile of fur—okay. Listen. Are you listening to me?"

"I'm listening."

"No you're not, you're tickling the wriggler."

"I can multitask."

Going by the look he gives you, Karkat doesn't believe that, but he keeps talking anyway. "You're going to give the grub back, first of all."

"Sure." You shift lil' guy off your lap and set them on the grass, aiming them at their lusus. Sure enough, they run to it, climbing halfway up one furry leg...and then sliding back down with a pleased chirrup, scurrying back to headbutt your leg. "Okay, I'm really hoping you have a plan B here."

"Plan B is we go find Dualscar."

"Why are we—"

"He's an Orphaner."

"Jesus fuck, Karkat, I don't want to kill this lil' guy's giant animal mom—"

"Dave, can you maybe not jump to the worst fucking conclusion? Orphaners don't just kill lusii; he should be able to talk it into leaving you alone."

"...okay. Do we have a plan C? Like, just in case."

"We get Tavros to tell it you're basically a wriggler yourself. But that one might get you adopted."

"Oh. Okay, cool." You guess you're carrying the grub, because they don't seem to want to let go of your shirt. Eh, that's fine. "Lead the way, dude."

 


End file.
